Chapter One.
June, 1986.
Somewhere in California ….
"Thanks for this, Hawke. We really appreciate your, indulgence," Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, otherwise known as Archangel, Deputy Director of Special Projects with The Firm, regarded Stringfellow Hawke, critically, with his one good eye as he leaned against his silver handled, rosewood cane.
The younger man was wearing his perpetual scowl, but beneath the perfect California tan, Archangel could see that he was looking tired, eyes red rimmed and lacking their usual sparkle, and he wondered just how bad the cold Hawke had been nursing over the past week or so, had really been.
Knowing Hawke's penchant for understatement, he suspected that it had been something more akin to flu than just an ordinary head cold, which had laid the younger man low, and had meant that they had had to put off this test of Airwolf's systems for another week.
This was the first time that Hawke had agreed to any kind of testing of his and Airwolf's skills for quite some time, especially as he feared that The Firm might use any information they gleaned in creating another version of Red Wolf, their last attempt to recreate Charles Moffet's creation, with a few improvements of their own.
It had been four months since Hawke had dispatched the second attempt to perfect Charles Moffet's prototype, and he still harbored his suspicions that it would not be the last, despite Archangel's reassurances to the contrary.
The last time Hawke had indulged Archangel in this way had been a while back, when he had gone head to head with Dr Robert Winchester.
During Winchester's tests, a rare chance to judge the pilot and the machine, both in their prime and in perfect harmony, his assistant had somehow managed to get into Airwolf's computer systems and managed to take control of the sleek, shark like, unique Mach 1 capable helicopter and over ride her weapons systems during a test flight.
The scientists at The Firm had since made certain that nothing of that rogue programming remained, and that there could never be another attempt to over ride her controls from another external source, and so far, so good.
Those original tests, Archangel recalled, had irritated Stringfellow Hawke.
Actually, Archangel suspected that it was Robert Winchester himself, who had really been the irritant.
The scientist had once been a rival of Hawke's on the original Airwolf project, and although his path had taken him away from actually flying the helicopter and deeper into the computer programming that made the machine what it was, Winchester had harbored a belief that he, not Hawke should have been the one chosen as her primary test pilot, believing that he had more than enough skill as a pilot to handle her, and that his superior knowledge of her computer systems put him ahead of Hawke as the primary candidate.
Now Winchester was dead and the incident had highlighted a weakness that Charles Moffet had overlooked. That Airwolf's computer systems could, if only briefly, be compromised.
Hawke's and Archangel's priority since then had been to find a way to ensure that it didn't happen again.
The darned helicopter wasn't much use if every time she took to the air, there was a chance that at a critical moment, someone could over ride her systems and use her to their own ends.
It was a security breach that they just couldn't afford, not with so many lives at risk, two, in particular. The pilot and his engineer. However, it seemed in the months and years in between they had finally overcome the problem.
"Here," Archangel handed Hawke a small shot of whisky. "For medicinal purposes. You look like hell, by the way," he smirked and watched as the younger man downed half the amber liquid in one gulp and then pulled a sour face.
"I've been telling him that for a week now," Dominic Santini chimed in and this drew another scowl from Stringfellow Hawke.
Hawke knew that Santini had been genuinely worried about him, and, with good reason.
Only Dominic knew just how sick Hawke had been, suffering from the effects of a fever induced delirium, which had also caused him to experience several very lucid and realistic dreams about Vietnam, and St John.
The fever had left him feeling weak and miserable, and even now, almost a week after the fever had broken, he still felt as though his legs were made of rubber and his eyes had grit in them.
"I've also been telling him for a week, that he needs a vacation. I need a vacation, so I know, he does too. Not that I got anything against working two jobs," Santini threw Archangel a pointed look. "Hard work is good for the soul, but, been getting just too damned crazy lately," Santini's voice trailed away, as he noted the sour look on his young friend's face.
"I agree with you entirely," this from Archangel now, and both Santini and Hawke regarded him with suspicious, narrowed eyed expressions.
"You agree with me about what?" Santini fished, frowning.
"The vacation," Archangel sighed softly. He was used to the craziness associated with his job, and knew that Hawke and Santini were too.
"Uh oh," Santini sighed rolling his eyes heavenward. He wasn't used to the government man agreeing with him quite so readily about anything. The fact that he agreed with him now, about their need for a vacation caused alarm bells to go off in the back of Santini's head.
Hawke's too, Santini thought silently to himself, as he watched his young friend's chiseled features carefully.
"Now that this testing is over, things are pretty quiet right now, so I figure we could do without you for, oh, a couple of weeks," Archangel clarified now.
"Well, gee, Michael, that's very magnanimous of you," Santini sighed deeply.
"When you two have quite finished arranging my life for me," Stringfellow Hawke growled. "I am fine," he pinned them both with one of his no nonsense glares, and then raised his glass to his lips and drained the last of the whisky down in one gulp. "And, I don't need a vacation," he added defiantly. "Now, if we're done?"
"We are," Archangel confirmed succinctly.
"Fine. Dominic," Hawke summoned the older man, as he turned on his heel and marched out into the sunlight once more, squinting as the sudden brightness hurt his eyes.
"Sure, sure. Right behind ya," Santini gulped down the last of his own drink and set the empty glass down on the table, before marching out into the sunlight after Hawke.
"I meant what I said, Hawke. Take a break, and, I mean from everything," Archangel called after the younger man's receding back. "If you don't …."
This immediately stopped Hawke dead in his tracks, and he span around to glare back at Archangel.
"If, I don't? What, Michael?"
"If, you don't, I won't have any other choice but to question your fitness and have you report to Knightsbridge for an intensive medical."
Archangel was not disappointed by the look on Stringfellow Hawke's face. He had known exactly how Hawke would react.
The younger man's lips were compressed, clamped together in a tight line, the muscles along his jaw line working furiously, both fists, hanging limply by his sides, were clenching and unclenching in rhythm with the muscles in his jaw as he ground his teeth in silent rage.
"And, you know what that means …."
"Yeah, Michael," Hawke hissed through his teeth. "I know what that means."
"Have fun."
"Youbetcha!" Hawke snarled, conjuring up in his mind's eye all the ways he would love to do physical damage to Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, and ignoring Dominic Santini's questioning look as he drew up along side him, he turned around and began to march out across the tarmac to where they had set down Airwolf, at the end of the tests.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" Santini quizzed once both men were installed inside Airwolf and had their helmets on.
"It means we're going to be having a break from the craziness, as you call it. That's vacation enough for me," Hawke grumbled, as he reached up to switch on the main rotor and watched the gauges before him pulse into life.
"No missions?"
"No missions. However, I am sure that you will be able to find something to occupy us, back at the hangar."
"Spoilsport," Dominic Santini sighed deeply. "Hey, wait a minute, who's the boss of Santini Air?"
"You are, Dominic," Hawke sighed deeply, knowing what was coming.
"Then, I say, we take a vacation."
"Dom …."
"No, kid. I don't wanna hear it. You're beat, and frankly, so am I. You must be for that cold to have had such an effect on you. I was worried it was going to do you in, for a while there, really String, you know I was," Santini sighed deeply over the mike in his helmet. "I say what we both need is a little R & R."
Stringfellow Hawke suspected that what his old friend really meant was that they needed a little time away from each other, to recharge their batteries.
Things had indeed been getting just a little too damned crazy, as Dominic had said, and they were both feeling the strain a little, and taking it out on each other in silly little ways.
Hawke knew that he had been sharp with Dominic for no particular reason, on several occasions, and his mother hen act over Hawke's recent malaise had been the last straw for Hawke.
Maybe Dom was right. Maybe they did need a vacation.
A little down time.
Away from each other.
"And Michael said to take a break, from everything. I guess he meant stunt work, maintenance, the whole shebang."
"Yeah Dom, that's what he meant, but, since when did Archangel tell you how to run your business?"
"Since his business, became my business too, and vice versa, I guess," Santini sighed softly. "You know he's right. If that's what he said, then that's what we do," Dominic Santini said with an edge of defiance in his voice now. "Now, are you gonna tell me what Archangel meant back there?"
"About what?"
"About questioning your fitness and scheduling a medical."
"Just routine."
"Didn't sound like routine to me."
"Dom …."
"String, you've had physicals before."
"Yeah. That's the point, Dom."
Although from his position behind Hawke's seat, Santini couldn't see it, there was a nasty twist to Hawke's top lip as he spoke.
"I've had The Firm's physicals before." Hawke emitted another deep, expressive sigh, his shoulders coming up around his earlobes, and Santini found himself wrestling with a smile.
"Bad huh?" he tried to keep the hint of amusement out of his tone but failed miserably.
"Oh, no, just a lot of needle happy egg heads ready to use me as a pin cushion. When they weren't shoving other kinds of probes into just about every orifice."
A visible shudder ran down the young man's spine at the mere thought of the intrusion he had had to suffer at the hands of the medics at The Firm's headquarters, Knightsbridge, just so that he could keep flying missions for them, and Dominic Santini watched it travel all the way down, flinching himself as he recalled the somewhat invasive and embarrassing medical examination he had once had to endure before he passed A1 to join the Army Air Corp.
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"I can see why you wouldn't want to go there," Santini lost his battle to contain his mirth and Stringfellow Hawke could hear the laughter in Santini's voice now, and he let out a deep sigh.
"So I guess we won't be getting any calls from Michael for at least a couple of weeks," Santini said, pulling himself together after a lengthy silence.
"That's what he said."
"So what are you gonna do?"
"Go home."
"The lake?"
"Where else?"
"Gee, why don't you really push the boat out for a change?"
"I like where I live, Dom. I don't want or need anything else. Tet, a bottle or two of fine wine, a good book, my cello and a fishing line, that's my idea of heaven."
"But you have those things all the time, String. You know what they say about a change being as good as a rest," Santini pointed out. "Why not try some place fun, like Las Vegas, or Hawaii?"
"Because my idea of a fun vacation is being at home with my dog and fishing in the lake, Dom, not getting rowdy in a bar in Honolulu."
"Gee kid, trouble is, you don't know how to have real fun. Kinda hard to get excited over spending the days sitting in a row boat with a fishing line, and long, cold, lonely nights with only that old tick hound and the trees for company. You know your trouble, no imagination, kid. You should get out more."
"Hey, I thought you were just complaining that there was a little too much excitement in our lives right now, Dominic," Hawke reminded in exasperation now. "You take your vacation where you like, Dominic, and leave me to mine."
"Ok, ok, keep your shirt on!" Dominic Santini sighed in resignation now.
"You said it before, Dom. R & R. Rest and relaxation. That's what we both need. The only way I know how to do that is to get plenty of fresh air and sleep. Lots of sleep. Uninterrupted, blessed, dreamless sleep."
"Ok, String," Santini acquiesced gently, picking up something in the younger man's tone of voice now and recalling recent nights when Hawke's sleep had been disturbed by flashbacks of memory and vivid nightmares. "If that's what does it for you."
"It is."
"Then I guess you don't need me cluttering the place up."
"You know that you are always welcome, Dominic." Hawke interjected quickly, not wanting his old friend to think that he was not welcome to share the cabin with him.
"Yeah, kid, I know, but my idea of a little R & R is slightly different to yours and I wouldn't want to cramp your style."
"So, what are your plans?" Hawke asked now, allowing himself a small, half smile for he already suspected that he knew exactly what Dominic Santini would do with his vacation time.
"Me? I don't know yet, but I'm sure once I hit the telephone and start calling the guys, we can come up with something a little more interesting than looking at the inside of our eyelids!" Santini laughed raucously then, and Hawke knew that he was fighting a loosing battle.
The old guy was and always would be still just a kid at heart, and he admitted silently to himself, there was no way Hawke himself could ever be that carefree.
"Well, whatever you end up doing, Dominic, just have fun. Take care of yourself, but have fun."
"Sure thing, kid. Youbetchya. You too."
0-0-0-0
Santini Air Hangar.
Van Nuys Airport, California.
"What are you doin' here?" Dominic Santini regarded Stringfellow Hawke with a frown as the young man strode casually into the hangar.
"I could ask you the same question," Hawke regarded the older man with a quirked eyebrow and both men could not resist a smile.
"Just tidying up some loose ends. Can't stay away from the place, huh?"
"No, guess not. Not when I know there is something that I can be doing to make myself useful."
"Great minds think alike."
"And fools seldom differ," Hawke finished the quote for him.
" Go home kid, I'm going to. When I've finished up here."
"Then let me give you a hand and we'll both be out of here quicker," Hawke grinned.
"No, String. Go home. I only came by to collect a few bills that needed paying and to make sure that there was nothing on the books that couldn't be rescheduled."
"You're really going to close this place up for two whole weeks?" Stringfellow Hawke could not hide his surprise.
"Sure."
"Wow, Dom, I don't remember you ever doing that, not in all these years."
"Well, there's a first time for everything, kid. I'm not getting any younger and I want to enjoy my vacations while I still can."
"What about Caitlin?" Hawke asked a little hesitantly, unable to stop himself from wondering how their fiery red headed colleague had taken the news.
"She's fine with it. Was trying to work up the nerve to ask me for some vacation time. I guess she's feeling a little homesick for Texas."
"God help Texas!"
"Amen!"
"You got something wild planned?" Hawke asked his old friend now with genuine interest.
"You bet!" Santini chuckled. "You?"
"Well, actually, I got a letter the other day from Charlie Roth, you remember him, don't you?"
"Charlie Roth? Oh yeah."
Indeed, Dominic Santini did remember the young man. He had served with Hawke in Vietnam and had come back from that hellhole with some pretty serious mental health issues.
He had withdrawn from the world, shutting himself away in the remote wilderness of Washington State, and only surfaced now and again when the memories and the nightmares drove him to seek out the company of someone else who had been there alongside him and could set him straight as to what had been real, and what was nightmare.
Hawke hadn't heard from the young man for at least three years, and Santini did not think that it boded well that he had suddenly decided to return to civilization, if only in the form of a letter to his old buddy in California.
"What did he have to say for himself?"
"An open invitation for me to go up to his place for a few days," Hawke informed, noting the expression on Santini's face.
"You going?"
"I'm thinking about it," Hawke hedged, the indecision obvious in his voice as he cast his eyes down briefly and shuffled his feet.
"Home from home for ya then," Santini regarded his young friend with curiosity, unsure why he seemed so hesitant and bashful.
"Yeah, in his letter, Charlie says that it's like a little piece of heaven up there, clean mountain air and crystal clear waters of the lakes. It sounds like the perfect spot to get that R & R we were talking about, and Charlie said to just show up, any time, he'd be glad to see me."
"Then you go and enjoy yourself, String, catch up with your old buddy, land a few fish, sink a few beers," Santini suspected that there would be more of that than actual fishing, but also knew that it wouldn't hurt his young friend to let his hair down for once, and tie one on with his old Army buddy.
"Maybe. Dom, if I do decide to go, can I borrow a chopper?"
Ah! There it is! I should have known! Dominic Santini found himself grinning from ear to ear. That was the reason for the young man's reticence, although why he should grow so coy about asking to borrow a chopper when it was something that he did on a regular basis always amused Santini.
"Sure. Sure. You know you don't have to ask, String. Take the Hughes. Nice long trip will do it good," Santini chuckled softly now.
"Thanks."
"So, where exactly are you headed?"
"I'm not sure I'm headed anywhere just yet, Dom, but if I do decide to go, some where up in the Cascade Mountains. I'll fly to the local airfield and then hire a car. Charlie has a little place way out in the sticks close to a lake. Good hunting and fishing."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Santini tried to sound enthusiastic for his young friend, but in truth, what he really thought was, there was such a thing as having too much tranquility and natural beauty.
Still, it was Hawke's choice, and at least he would have some human company, instead of just that lazy old tick hound, Tet, up at the cabin on Eagle Lake.
"Nothing is definite yet, Dominic."
"Guess if the Hughes ain't here when I get back, I know you're off in the wilderness some place."
"How about you?"
"Me? Well I decided it was time I took a little trip down memory lane."
"Oh? Dom, you did remember that this enforced vacation will only be for a couple of weeks?"
"Sure I did," Santini scowled at his young friend, briefly, but nothing could dispel his excitement at the thought of his vacation plans.
"Me and some of the boys from the old regiment are getting together to liberate Europe. Of all the beer we can lay our hands on!" Santini threw back his head and roared with laughter now. "They've had more than forty years to stock up after the last time," he gurgled and Stringfellow Hawke could not suppress a smile now. It was good to see his old friend looking so relaxed and happy. "And it should just about last us a week."
"Just don't get arrested," Hawke warned sagely, knowing that once Dominic hooked up with his old Army buddies his estimate that the entire beer stocks of Europe would only last them a week was right on the money, and once they had soaked some of it up they were libel to get themselves into all kinds of mischief.
"Party pooper," Santini grumbled but he was finding it hard not grin, obviously excited about the prospect of spending some down time with his old war buddies.
"Ok, but if you do get arrested, don't expect me to come bail you and the guys out."
"I ain't afraid of a night or two in a cell, kid. One way to save on hotel bills!"
"Fine, then if the gendarmerie or whoever get a little bent out of shape at your shenanigans, give Cait a call, I'm sure she'd be delighted to come liberate you and the guys!"